Savage of Society
by all-uu-need-is-love
Summary: A group of girls crash land on an uncharted island during World War II. Order is respected, and the girls get along fine until the idea of being rescued grows fainter and fainter. Suddenly, the girls are faced with the harsh reality of human instinct and to most, it isn't friendly. R&R Female version of LOTF.


THE GIRL WITH LIGHT, BLONDE HAIR stared out into the barren ocean, watching as frothy white waves crashed upon the sodden beach. She had discarded the navy blue blazer girls were required to wear at St. Andrews, leaving only her knee length pleated skirt and white blouse with a tie. She wanted to badly to remove her white socks and black shoes, but she was surrounded by jungle, and she wasn't sure if she would be needed them. But it was a bother to wear the bulky items as she treaded laboriously through the soft, gritty sand. There was a clear, blue lagoon coming up, surrounded by jagged rocks and harsh cliffs. The girl almost felt like scouring them just for the hell of it. Maybe then she could try to see if anybody else had survived the crash.

"Hey! Wait a minute! Slow down!"

A voice tore her attention away from the jagged cliffs and towards the person who clambered behind her. The voice called out again.

"Please, just wait a sec-" Their was pause as the voice's owner took several dramatically heavy breaths. "I...I got to catch up."

The girl huffed and pushed back her light blonde hair, slightly aggravated at the voice's owner's utter slowness.

The voice spoke again through ragged breaths. "It's so hard to move with all this jungle marsh. What is that, anyway? Vines? How odd."

Finally, the girl turned around to appraise her follower, her dark blue eyes intent on scouring out every last detail. The other girl was plump, with a small, round face and bright rosy cheeks, flushed from the island's sun. She still wore her bulky blazer and managed to keep her socks pulled up all the way, but her exposed skin was scratched and tattered from the evident troubles she had catching up. Her hair was wild and frizzy with the head, spurring out into many curls along her head. She approached the other girl, gazing through thick spectacles, and patted her round belly in content.

"Where's Mrs. Allen? Or Mr. Carther? Are there any adults?" The fair haired girl sniggered.

"This is an island. At least, I'm fairly sure it's an island. I don't think there's any grown ups anywhere."

The fat girl seemed appalled.

"No grown ups? How odd," she repeated. "There must be some. Surely if we're alive, the pilot must be alright. He was up front."

The fair girl ignored her, instead staring wistfully out at the bright reef.

"If we're alive," the fat girl continued. "And even if the pilot 'en't, then some other kids _must've_ gotten out."

"Maybe." The fair girl shrugged and padded her way along the beach, staring down at the colorful shells embedded into the sand.

"But you haven't seen any grown ups at _all_?"

"Nope." The fair girl gazed up at her follower, quite annoyed at how much she was being pestered. "I don't think so." She paused to draw a breath. "Do you remember anything from the crash?"

"Just that when I looked out the window, the wing was on fire. And then I remember spinning and I felt dizzy and then I woke up over there."

"We were attacked by the Germans!"

"Maybe."

"Where's the cabin now? It couldn't possibly have disappeared. I bet if we find the cabin, we'll find the captain and the other kids."

"I think it was drug out to the sea, swallowed into the ocean." The fat girl stopped to study her companion, taking in the deep blue of her eyes and extreme lightness of her long, wavy hair. "What's your name?"

"Diana." The fair girl said it without hesitation, glancing sideways at her inquirer, but didn't return the question. In all honesty, Diana didn't really care what the fat girl's name was. All she knew was that until she found the rest of them, she was stuck with her, and the idea seemed most dismal. The fat girl was, after all, quite an annoyance.

When the fat girl realized Diana wasn't going to ask, she decided to continue.

"I don't care what they call me." She paused and hesitantly answered. "S'long as they don't call me what they did at St. Andrews."

"What was that?" Diana asked with mild interest.

The girl blushed a deep red and leaned in towards Diana.

She whispered, "They called me 'Piggy'."

Diana couldn't contain herself; her chest heaved with laughter as her knees buckled, mirth escaping her as loudly as it could.

"Piggy!" She shrieked. "Piggy! Piggy! Piggy!"

"Please-"

"Like the Three Little Pigs," Diana went on, clutching her side. "Oink, oink, oink!"

"Stop! I said I didn't want-"

"Piggy! Piggy!" Diana chanted like it was a cheer for a sports game, hooting and wailing as if she had never heard anything so funny. "Piggy!"

Once Diana had calmed down, Piggy drew a deep breath and shrugged her bulky shoulders. "So long as you don't tell anyone else-"

"Fine, fine. Whatever." Diana started to skip merrily, poking at a dead starfish that had washed up onshore with a stick she found, and Piggy couldn't keep up.

"Hey!" She called to Diana, panting. "Don't run, I can't keep up!" Diana sniggered, but didn't remark.

"My auntie told me not to run," Piggy said through hard breaths. "See, I have asthma. It flares up when I exert myself."

"Ass-mar?"

"Yeah," Piggy, somewhat proudly. "I was the only girl at St. Andrews with asthma." She touched her glasses gently and smiled. "And I've been wearing specs since before I can remember."

"Mhm." Diana barely heard Piggy's explanation, and was more concerned with the cool, salt water that brushed by her now ruined shoes. Without hesitation, she discarded her socks and shoes, then pulled off her striped tie and blouse. Piggy watched somewhat confused as Diana splashed into the water, wadding around like a dog.

"You can't swim," she commented after watched Diana awkwardly kick through the water.

"Yes I can." Diana snorted, rolling her eyes. "My papa taught me how to when I was six. He's a commander in the navy."

"Well I'm not allowed to swim," Piggy with a huff, staring distastefully at Diana. "I can't, cuz of my asthma-"

"Sucks to you ass-mar!" Diana went under water for a moment, but surfaced quickly, spewing out a stream of water. She stopped for a moment to look at Piggy. "Where's your parents?"

"Dead," Piggy answered instantly, showing no emotion of grief. "Died before I could I talk. Lived with aunt for a while, then they sent me off to St. Andrews. If your dad's in the navy, can he rescue us?"

"Sure can! As soon as he sends word to his mates, we'll be out of here."

"How does he know we're here?"

Diana had to sigh at Piggy's utter incompetence. How else would he know? He was her father; he always knew everything. He'd know in a flash exactly where Diana had disappeared off to.

"Someone'll tell him. He's smart. He'll figure it out."

"But nobody _knows_ we're here to tell him," Piggy persisted, ignoring the look of frustration that crossed Diana's face. "Nobody. Not your dad, not my aunt, not any teachers or pilots-" The sun glinted off her large glasses, revealing a troubled look beneath the mask of importance. "We may die here."

Diana tried to push down the feeling of apprehension that had begun to bubble in her stomach. Die? No, her father would find them. Piggy was wrong.

"Get my clothes," Diana ordered, somewhat lazily. "Over there."

Piggy handed Diana her clothes and she pulled them on, pulling her plaid skirt up and buttoning her blouse. Piggy helped her with the tie, but Diana refused to wear those sodden shoes any longer. They were useless on the island, as were the socks. Piggy thought differently, but what did it matter to Diana? Then she spotted something, something creamy and shiny in the summer sun than lay half way out of the wet sand.

"What's that?"

Piggy's eyes had drifted to the object and widened in gleeful surprise. "Dunno. A stone?"

"Nah, it's a shell."

Piggy watched excitedly as Diana pulled the shell out of the water, weighing it between her hands and giving it sidelong glances.

"My grandpa had one of those," Piggy said, her voice quivering with joy. "Called it a conch. Said you could blow into and it'll sound like a trumpet-oh, be careful with it!"

Diana had begun to shake it like there was money embedded into its curved depths. "Shut up."

"Diana!" Piggy exclaimed, grinning down at the conch. "We can use it to call a meeting. If there's any others on the island, they'll hear it and come running down here. Then we'll be reunited."

The thought of having other children besides Piggy around was a riveting idea to Diana, and persisted her to ask her next question. "How'd you grandpa blow the conch?"

"He spat," Piggy answered. "Like a tuba. Ever played the tuba? It's like that. Or a clarinet. You do it from down there."

Diana attempted to make music, but only a strained, awful hum came through it, barely loud enough for either of the girls to hear. Piggy shook her head in disapproval.

"No, he spat. Like a tuba. Ever played the tuba? It's like that-"

Suddenly a clear, bellowing howl emitted from the shell, startling both Piggy and Diana from where they stood. Diana removed her lips from the conch and stared in awe, then trying the noise again. This time it was even louder, arousing birds from their calm nests in the trees and creating a scuttle in the jungle. Diana repeated this method until Piggy squealed and pointed over by the bay.

"Look, look! It's a girl!"

A small girl, perhaps six or seven, had begun to make her way along the shoreline, her small face smeared with fruit. Her uniform was battered and torn, and like Diana, she had removed her blazer and shoes. She reached the two girls and stared in curiosity at the shell, then at Diana, then at Piggy.

"What's your name?" Piggy asked as the conch bellowed once again through Diana. The child had to practically yell over the loud noise.

"Abigail!"

"Abigail," Piggy repeated, then turning to Diana. "Abigail's her name!"

Diana didn't answer, instead creating another melodic howl from the conch as more children began to appear along the beach. Three more girls around the same age as Abigail reached the platform, their faces smudged with the same similar fruit. They introduced themselves as Margaret, Sarah, and Madge, and were unsurprisingly friends of Abigail. Another girl made her way along the bank, a girl not much younger than Piggy with a dark complexion. The rest followed Abigail's lead and took a seat around Piggy and Diana, who still blew through the conch. They all had the same distressed look about them-torn clothing, socks pulled halfway up, blazer dragging behind them, tie hanging loosely around their necks. Some were jerseyed, some were nearly bare, but most looked like Diana, slowly peeling off the dead weight of their tattered uniforms.

Two twins wandered up, walking at the same rhythm, smiling an eerily similar grin. Their chestnut hair was pulled back into the same floppy ponytails, and both their blouses were soiled with dirt. Piggy glanced back and forth between the two of them, methodically trying to remember their names.

"Bridget and Michelle, Bridget and Michelle-"

"No!" Bridget cried, laughing. "_I'm_ Bridget. That's Michelle."

"Sorry." Piggy looked flustered between the two, and went back to saying their names. "Bridget, Michelle. Bridget, Michelle. Bridget-"

"No, _I'm_ Michelle! She's Bridget."

The crowd laughed quietly as the twins pointed at one another, hopelessly trying to point out tiny differences to aid Piggy in her quest of telling them apart.

Diana went to press her lips against the conch again, but she was suddenly alarmed when she saw a cluster of girls walking a straight line formation along the beach, singing an old hymn she remembered from church. They weren't wearing the same garments as the others girls. This party of children wore long, navy pleated skirts and dark robes, each carrying an emblem of St. Andrews. Honor students, perhaps? Diana wasn't sure until they came closer into her view, and suddenly she recognized the badge on their leader's breast pocket. They were the choir, the highly respected students back at St. Andrews. She remembered them faintly, strolling through the halls with mild arrogance towards their lesser peers. Teachers adored them, and likewise did the adults, and the choir girls bathed in the attention. When they finally reached the rest of the girls, their leader stopped and stared around, ignoring both Diana and Piggy.

"Where's the man with the trumpet?"

"There is no man with a trumpet," Diana replied, grimacing at the girl's look of apprehension. "Only me."

The girl, who stood a few inches above Diana, stared down at her and glared.

"Is there a boat? Where's the pilot, or Mrs. Omacky?"

"No," Diana answered again. "No adults." She drank the girl in, watching as she fiddled with tips of fiery red hair. The sun glinted into her icy blue eyes, illuminating each and every freckle upon her scowling face. Not a looker, Diana decided, but someone to be muddled with.

"So there's nobody?" the redheaded girl asked again.

"No, but we're having a meeting to try and figure out what to do. You can join us if you please."

The choir girls from behind the redhead went to sit down beside the others, but their leader turned and sneered.

"Choir! Stand still!"

The girls seemed wary of their leader, and though reluctant, quietly obeyed her. They pleaded in small, helpless voices.

"But Mason. Please, Mason. Can't we..."

Suddenly one of the taller girls flopped head first into the sun baked sand, her uniformed hat flailing from her head. A couple of the girls sighed and heaved her off her belly and onto her back, lying her down next to the twins. Mason, as she was called, barely noticed.

"Alright, let her alone. She'll be fine."

"But Mason," one of the smaller girls cried.

"She's always fainting," Mason said, a small grin creeping upon her face. "She did it in Liverpool and Venice, even once on our trip in Paris. Pathetic, she is."

The choir snickered at Mason's words, glancing over at the fallen girl and laughing. A couple of the others joined in, and even Diana had a laugh. Piggy just stood there, too intimidated to ask names from this arrogant group of girls and strange attitude of Mason. She cowered behind Diana, focusing instead on wiping a way a smudge that had formed on her specs.

"So there's no grown ups?" Mason asked once more, addressing Diana personally this time.

"None."

"So then we'll have to look out for ourselves, I s'pose."

Feeling more confident after Mason sat down on the trunk of a sidelong palm tree, Piggy quietly spoke.

"That's why Diana called for a meeting," she said, nodding at her fair haired friend. "Now we can decided as a group what to do. We're getting names down. That's Abigail, and Margaret, and Sarah, and Madge. Those two, the twins, that's Bridget and Michelle-"

"_No_, I'm Michelle!"

"And _I'm_ Bridget." The twins were mildly annoyed yet amused at Piggy's confusion, and the choir suppressed a chuckle.

"We should know everybody's names," Diana decided. "So I'm Diana."

"Childish names," Mason snorted, her fox like face curling into a sly grin. "I don't like my name, Harriet. It's dull and boring and stupid. I like Mason better."

"Mason's a boy name," Piggy muttered quietly, more to himself, but made the mistake of letting Harriet Mason hear.

"Shut up, Fatty," she leered."

A few girls chuckled, and Diana couldn't help herself when she added, "Her name's not Fatty. It's _Piggy_!"

"Piggy!" Michelle and Bridget shrieked in accord. "Piggy!"

"Piggy!"

"Oink! Oink! Piggy!"

"Piggy! Piggy!"

They were all laughing now, cackling more when Piggy turned a dark shade of crimson. She tried to look away but their mocking laughter called her back, taunting her without even meaning to.

When the laughter died away, Diana was able to peel back each girl's name, starting with the older girls in the choir. The girl closest to Harriet named herself as Bella, with a wide, whitened smile and curly brown hair. A quiet, seclusive girl next to Bella stared up at Diana with wide, accusing brown eyes and pushed her dark hair back. She called herself Rachel and was silent once again. There was Chasity and Paula, Melissa and Anne, and finally the girl who had fainted. She had ebony hair and charcoal grey eyes, with tanned skin and a pretty smile. She identified herself as Claire.

Harriet spoke again. "We should develop a plan for rescue, like they do in the books."

"I want to go home," Margaret murmured sadly, huddling close with the other little ones. Diana was frustrated.

"Shut up." She stared between the choir and the others, from blue blazer to dark cloak. "I think we should have a chief, someone who can make the overall decisions."

"A chief!" Michelle cried, grinning enthusiastically at her twin. "A chief!"

"I should be chief," Harriet said with a haughty grin, stepping suavely out before her peers. "I'm head girl for the choir, and a house prefect back at St. Andrews. I can sing C sharp, and I'm the oldest by far." She stared Diana up and down and gave a _hmph_!

When nobody objected, Harriet went on arrogantly. "Well, I declare myself-"

"We should have a vote," Rachel said suddenly, arousing excitement from her classmates.

"Yeah, a vote!"

"Let's vote!"

"Like an election!"

One of the girls mentioned that if they were to vote, Harriet should have a competitor. Then another girl by the name of Sadie offered that Diana should run on account that she held the conch and called the meeting. The others agreed and the vote began, lead off by Sadie.

"Alright. All those in favor of Harriet being chief, raise your hands."

A few of the little ones voted and cheered, but the choir made no move. Harriet grunted angrily and they wearily raised their hands, calling pallidly for Harriet to win. Sadie counted and continued.

"Alright, that's fifteen. Now, all those who want Diana to be chief, raise your hands."

An accord of hands went out through the crowd, and everyone outside the choir, save the few little ones that had voted for Harriet, raised their hands and cheered. With a swift nod, Sadie grinned.

"Diana's chief. Won by a landslide."

The girls applauded and the choir joined in, whistling and hooting just because it felt like an exciting revelation. Harriet's cheeks shaded red, but she held her head high and managed to give Diana a nod of approval. Diana liked Harriet. She admired her competitive nature and eager personality, therefore felt indebted that she assign her some sort of roll in power.

"The choir belongs to you," Diana told Harriet, smiling.

"We could be an army!" Bella whispered from behind Harriet. Rachel shook her head.

"No, we should be hunters!"

"Hunters?"

"Quiet!" Diana ordered. "It's Harriet's decision."

Harriet thought for a moment, ignoring the hushed whispers from an anxious choir from behind her. She pursed her thin lips and stared through beady eyes, finally grinning and patting Rachel on the back.

"Hunters, I think. Sounds fun."

Diana smiled at Harriet, and she returned the kind gesture. A friendship was boiling between the two of them, one that made Piggy feel almost pushed aside. Harriet arose and stretched her arms, giving her choir an offhand glance.

"Alright, choir. You may discard of your robes."

The choir didn't hesitate in peeling off the heavy cloaks, leaving them on the floor and relishing in the thin cotton of the blouse and swift feel of their skirts.

"Okay," Diana said after a moment. "First we should decide whether this is an island or not. Harriet and I will explore it." She glanced around through the girls searching for one more. "Claire can come too."

Claire followed as the two girls made their way over to the jungle, ignoring Piggy who trailed behind them.

"Wait! I can come too!"

Harriet and Diana both sighed in utter annoyance, and Claire watched in dismay.

"You can't come," Diana said as gently as she could manage. "You could barely make it along the beach."

"I'll be fine-"

"We don't want you to come," Harriet said flatly, plain and clear. "Three's enough."

"But I was there when Diana found the conch. I should be included with her."

The ignored her and went about towards the forest, Piggy struggling dumbly from behind them.

"Claire, you walk between us," Diana said, and Claire obeyed. Piggy could still be heard from behind them, struggling through harsh breaths.

"Guys! Wait!"

Abruptly, Diana turned around to Piggy as Harriet and Claire trudged on. Diana needed to handle this on her own.

"Look," she said to Piggy, glaring. "You can't come."

"That's not fair."

"You can't come."

"You told them after what I said," Piggy murmured, her lip quivering and her specs fogging up with hot tears. "After I said they could say _anything_ 'sides 'Piggy'."

"What?"

"Don't act stupid, Diana. You know right well what you did, and you ought to be ashamed."

In spite of feeling frustrated with Piggy, Diana saw the tears that had clustered in the corners of her eyes and sighed. She didn't want to apologize and give into Piggy's pathetic pleas, so she decided to make light of it. It was her personality, it had always been.

"Better Piggy than Fatty or Cow." She paused, possessing the same arrogance as Harriet and purposefully mimicking her important forte. "Besides, I'm sorry if you feel like that, but that's life. There's more important things than that. Now, you go back and get names down. That's your personal job. See ya." She turned and raced towards the other two, skipping over fallen branches and jungle creepers. Reluctantly, Piggy drew a deep breath and made her way back over to the platform where she would see to her dingy job.

The three girls explored through the forest, pretending they were the adventurers from _Molly Martin, Exhibitor of the Prohibited_. They laughed and told jokes, listening as Harriet did impression after impression of each teacher back at St. Andrews. Every now and then, Diana would loll her head back and say, "They did! That's true!"

Claire was shyer than the other two, but enjoyed the laughter nonetheless, even

partaking when Harriet went on to say that she was Molly Martin and this was the prohibited jungle of Venus, and she was the one to explore it.

"No way," Diana said, shaking her head. "That's drab, that's old. I read that when I was ten."

They laughed again, and Harriet agreed. They scoured the island, cliff after cliff, ratty vine after fallen timber, tripping over green plants that snaked through the forest ground. They climbed to the peek of a small mountain, exclaiming that it was there property. It held a cave and a jagged edge, so jagged that the girls made an effort to stay away from it. After deciding that it definitely was an island, they made their way back, commenting on how they were to eat.

"I don't like fruit," Harriet admitted. "I like bread and butter."

"I like fruit."

"Sucks to your fruit, Claire."

They laughed again, but fell deadly silent when a creature came hurdling down in front of them, just a flash of black in the dim light. It squealed, and Harriet made a similar noise just to make the girls laugh.

"Was that a pig?"

"A pig!"

"Something to hunt!"

"You could stick a pig."

"But you'd have to let the blood drain," Harriet said wisely. "Otherwise you couldn't eat it."

"You should've gotten it, Harriet," Diana added lazily, a small grin on her face as she watched her friend glare.

"I would've," Harriet insisted. "But I was unprepared. I'll get her next to time."

"Yeah," Claire agreed half heartedly. "Always next time."

"Sucks to next time."

"Sucks to you!"

The three girls rambled back down through the forest, laughing, and shoving each other like they had no other cares in the world. Trying to act dismissive, Harriet glanced back behind her shoulder while the two other girls made their way back to the beach. She was watching for that pig, that intolerable swine that had slipped away from her as easy like that. It made her stomach burn and an unfamiliar twist of hatred churn in her heart, and something was lodged into her mind. It was vengeance.


End file.
